Sunday Dinner
by BabyBeaver
Summary: Inspired while watching Nappers Never Sleep. Specifically, Fillmore and Ingrid's conversation at the end about Sunday dinner. One crazy teen's take on what COULD have happened. But be warned: my imagination may have gone overboard.


So, this was inspired after I watched Nappers Never Sleep on YouTube August 16th, 2007, finished on August 21st. The conversation between Fillmore and Ingrid at the very end about mustard greens and Sunday dinner got me thinking, Hey, what happened at Sunday dinner? Here's one version of what might've happened.

I'm totally making up Fillmore's grandma's name and such. Technically, she belongs to Disney, as Fillmore mentions her in NNS. But he never mentions her name, so I made it up. _**Everything else belongs to Disney.**_

Fillmore's parents' names are really supposed to be Joelle and Karim, and from the bibs Mr. Fillmore gives Fillmore and Mrs. Fillmore in Cry, the Beloved Mascot, she's Joelle, and he's Karim. Plus, there's common sense. Joelle sounds more feminine than Karim, yes?

Meant to be a (LONG) one-shot. If I get the urge, the time, or a bazillion reviews telling me otherwise, I may consider making it into something longer.

Oh, and it's not connected to "Sorry: No Title Yet." This one takes place after NNS, and S: NTY is after the last episode, considering I don't think Ingrid ever "dropped off the face of the planet" in the series.

Not really connected to Becoming Somebody, either. Nappers Never Sleep aired before This Savior, A Snitch.

Aaaaaand I'm not sure Fillmore can really roll his eyes—we never see anything but his glasses and his eyebrows—but work with me, people.

* * *

"You know what? I'm comin' early. You in an apron? This I gotta see." Ingrid grinned as she and Fillmore headed for the door of the Safety Patrol Headquarters and Glee Club Annex. 

"You and you alone. No cameras, Third," Fillmore replied as they left the room.

"Wouldn't think of it," Ingrid promised, crossing her fingers behind her back before she closed the door behind the two.

-F-

Sunday evening, as Fillmore, his mother, and his grandmother were finishing up with their "masterpiece" (this week's Sunday dinner), the doorbell sounded.

"Cornelius, can you get that?" his mother asked, indicating the kitchen counter, which she and Grandma Jane had begun cleaning off. "Grandma and I are cleaning, and your dad's probably busy tinkering with something."

"Sure, I got it, Mom," Fillmore answered, wiping his hands off and heading for the front door, but not without overhearing his mother telling Grandma quietly, "It's Cornelius's friend Ingrid. I think you'll like her—Karim and I do."

Fillmore sighed and rolled his eyes, reaching for the door handle. As he opened the door, he came face-to-face with something he wasn't expecting.

His friend and partner was standing on his grandmother's doorstep in an abnormal outfit, something Fillmore never thought he'd see Ingrid wearing.

"I-Ingrid?" he stammered, blinking in surprise.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm wearing pants," Ingrid said, waving her hand in the air, a smile now spreading across her face. "You gonna invite me inside, or do I have to stand outside all night?"

"Oh, right. Yeah." Fillmore opened the door wider, a sheepish grin on his face as he continued, "Yeah, come on in. And welcome to Grandma Jane's."

As Ingrid stepped into the house, a smile on her face, Fillmore couldn't help but notice the rest of her outfit—after all, it was very…not Ingrid.

_I've never seen Ingrid in anything but her dresses, unless she was undercover, really. What's she doing in pants and a sweater? And what's up with the flower in her hair?_

"Ingrid!" he heard his mother gush. Seconds later, Joelle was steering Ingrid towards the living room, declaring, "Karim, Ingrid's here. Stop your experimenting and come say hello."

She looked over her shoulder, requesting, "Oh, Cornelius, would you go get that lemonade for me?"

"Sure, Mom," Fillmore answered, rolling his eyes and walking into the kitchen to find his grandmother smiling at him, already pouring glasses of lemonade.

"So that's Ingrid."

Confused by her comment, Fillmore's right eyebrow rose as he replied, "Yeah, that's Ingrid."

Grandma Jane's smile widened. "She's a very lovely young lady."

"Yeah—wait, what?" Fillmore stuttered, staring at his grandmother, who smiled as she replied, "Cornelius, your face is pink. It's rather easy to see, which is odd for a dark-skinned person, don't you think?"

Fillmore's hand flew to his face, and Grandma offered him a spoon so he could see for himself. Sure enough, his face was a noticeable shade of pink.

"Um…" was all he could utter.

"Child, you needn't be embarrassed," Jane stated, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's normal, I promise." She patted his shoulder, then continued, "Now, why don't we bring this lemonade out to the others, hm?"

Fillmore smiled rather weakly, taking two of the glasses while Jane took the tray holding the other three, and the two headed out to the living room.

Fillmore's face heated up once more and he almost dropped the glasses when he realized what his mother and Ingrid were looking at.

The family photo album.

Taking a breath, Fillmore finished the walk across the room and glanced at the album as he offered Ingrid a glass.

She looked up, smiling as she took the lemonade, and declared, "Gee, Fillmore, I didn't know you were such a cute little kid. What happened?"

His parents laughed, and his dad grinned at him.

Setting his own lemonade down on the coffee table, Fillmore replied seriously, "I got cuter."

Ingrid's eyebrows rose, but she didn't say anything as she raised her glass to her lips.

With a grin, Fillmore continued, "Oh, come on, Third. Admit it—you think I'm cute."

Ingrid's eyes widened, and she choked on her drink, coughing as she put the glass on the table, her other hand in front of her mouth.

Fillmore chuckled, and Joelle's attention turned, just for a moment, from Ingrid to him as she gave him a pointed stare, then moved back to Ingrid as the girl genius's coughing fit ended.

"I'm okay," Ingrid smiled, turning to him, a blush clearly spreading over her face as she added, "Okay, yes. Maybe you're still…sorta cute."

Fillmore blinked, not expecting an affirmative comment, and heard the smile in his grandmother's voice as Jane stated, "Cute and lovely. Sounds like a good combination to me."

Ingrid's blush deepened, and Fillmore could feel his face growing warmer. He and Ingrid stood up at the same moment, he announcing, "I…I'm gonna go to the bathroom," and she excusing herself with, "Can I…use your bathroom?"

"Oh, speaking at the same time, and about the same issue," Grandma Jane gushed, smile widening as she stood up, as well. "Of course you may, Ingrid. Come along this way, dear."

"Cornelius, why don't you wait here," Karim suggested, nudging Joelle, who stood and excused herself to check on dinner. Karim patted the couch, but Fillmore knew it wasn't a suggestion as much as a friendly command.

As he sat down, his father smiled. "Cornelius, you just embarrassed yourself and your best friend—in front of your parents and grandmother."

"Yeah, I know."

"But it was pretty…satisfying, was it not?"

Fillmore's eyebrows knitted together in a confused frown, and he looked up at his father. "Huh?"

Karim smiled. "Hey, you found out Ingrid likes you. How long have you known the girl? A few months? It took me almost a year to find out your mother had a crush on me!"

"It was six months, dear," Joelle called from the kitchen.

Karim grinned. "Alright, then. Six months. It's still longer than you and Ingrid."

"Dad…" Fillmore frowned. "Ingrid and I are friends. And partners. That's it."

Smiling knowingly, his father replied, "Alright, son. Whatever you say."

Both looked up as Grandma Jane's voice reached their ears, followed soon thereafter by Jane and Ingrid, the blush not as noticeable, but still there. As she spotted Fillmore, his partner smiled mischievously, declaring, "By the way, Cornelius… Nice apron."

The smile that had started to form on his lips widened as he replied, "Thanks. It was a Christmas present."

Now it was Ingrid's turn to blink, and Fillmore's smile widened a bit more as he asked, "What's the matter, Third? Were you expecting me to blush again?"

Ingrid blinked twice before replying, "Uh…yeah. Sort of."

He smiled. "I'm rather proud of my apron. Probably as proud as Ariella with her mailbox picture collection. It's something I enjoy."

"So I gathered…"

"Speaking of aprons," Joelle interrupted, smiling, "I think it's about time for dinner."

Karim jumped to his feet, clapping his hands together. "So what's tonight's special?"

"If you didn't help with it, it's a surprise. That's how it's always been, right, son?" Grandma Jane smiled, and Karim's face fell only slightly. "Yes, Mama."

Grinning, he headed for the kitchen. "So, what're we waiting for? Let's eat!"

Jane and Joelle both shook their heads, following Karim's path, Joelle glancing back at Fillmore and Ingrid. "Coming, kids?"

The pair exchanged a glance, replying in unison, "Yeah" and followed the adults.

As they entered the kitchen, Fillmore chuckled. "I should've known."

"What?" Ingrid glanced at him, her gaze swinging to the table. "Oh."

He smiled almost grimly, lowering his voice as he responded, "Yeah. That. Should've guessed. Well, might as well play along, right?"

Ingrid looked confused, but followed his lead, walking behind him to the table, where he stopped between the two empty seats and looked at her expectantly.

She frowned, but as she reached a chair, she smiled her understanding, allowing him—to his family's amusement—to help her sit down and scoot the chair a bit closer to the table before he seated himself.

His parents smiled, Grandma Jane beamed, and Fillmore looked at Ingrid. "I don't know what they find so amusing."

Ingrid shrugged. "Neither do I. I wonder what's so strange about chivalry?"

Both students grinned, looking at the adults, Fillmore asking, "So, we gonna eat or not? Because it'd be crazy to waste all that food, not to mention rude to have invited Ingrid and then making her leave without any dinner."

Karim grinned. "Smart kid. Wonder where he gets it from?"

"Probably from hanging out with Ingrid," Joelle smiled, and Karim's smile faded slightly as he declared, "Oh, ow. You know, that hurt."

"Dad," Fillmore said, looking almost mortified, "I thought you wanted to eat."

Karim grinned, looking at his son. "You're right, son. I did. But your mother's comment stole my appetite."

"Karim, just eat."

-F-

"Wow," Ingrid declared after they'd finally eaten, looking at Jane. "Okay, now I get why your grandson gets so excited about Sunday dinner."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Jane smiled, her gaze moving to her grandson, an expression only he could read on her face.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ingrid looked at her friend, noticing that he looked slightly uncomfortable but seemed to be masking it, because he inquired, "Uh, shouldn't we clean up if we're all finished?"

"Why don't you take a break and…oh, say, walk Ingrid home?" Joelle suggested, smiling at him as she stood and began clearing the table.

Fillmore blinked, looking at Ingrid. Slowly, a grin lit up his face, and he stated, "Walking her home isn't quite a break, Mom."

Ingrid stared at him, and he continued, "But I think I can handle it."

Karim was grinning as he stood and inquired, "You've dealt with worse, huh?"

"Trust me, he's dealt with a _lot_ worse," Ingrid put in, eyes narrowed as she looked at Fillmore, who grinned. "Oh, I dunno about that…"

Ingrid shook her head, exasperated, as Jane, too, stood and walked to the sink, apparently trying to ignore the banter.

"Alright, you two, quit with the fighting and just scoot so the adults can work on the dishes," Joelle smiled, and the two headed for the door. "And Cornelius?"

Fillmore looked back at her as he opened the door. "Yeah?"

"Oh, nothing. Never mind." Joelle waved the thought away, but Fillmore caught the look in his mother's eyes and nodded, turning back to Ingrid and motioning her out the door.

"Well, that was…interesting…" Ingrid declared as they started toward her house.

"Remind me never to invite you to family reunions."

"It wasn't _that_ bad, Fillmore," Ingrid told him, but his expression told her he thought otherwise. "Okay, what made it so terrible?"

He didn't answer, and she stopped walking, grabbing his arm.

He stopped, his facial expression indicating annoyance, and she stared at him.

"Fillmore, _what_ are you so annoyed about?"

"Nothing," her friend insisted, continuing up the street.

"Fillmore, I'm your friend and your partner. I know you. Something's bothering you, and I'd like to know what it is."

"I already told you, it's nothing."

"Fillmore."

Her tone got him to stop in his tracks, and he looked at her in surprise.

"What do you want me to say, Ingrid?" he asked, frowning fiercely.

"Whatever's on your mind, Cornelius. Don't say what you think I want to say, just what you feel you need to say."

"What're you, a psychologist?" he asked as they kept walking.

"Fillmore, just tell me what's wrong, would you? What happened that you're so upset? Something with your parents or your grandma, or…what?"

Fillmore's face changed, as though he was debating whether to explain or not.

After a few minutes, Ingrid had almost given up on getting an answer when Fillmore blurted, "It's the fact they keep teasing, and I'm almost sure they're right."

Ingrid blinked, frowning as they turned up her street. "You mean they're right about…what, exactly?"

Another internal struggle, and he declared, "Right that I…uh…"

His statement was too quiet to hear, and Ingrid stopped as they neared her house.

"Hang on a minute. What was that?"

Fillmore sighed, his voice just above a whisper as he repeated, "That…maybe I do…like you."

Ingrid blinked. "Oh, really?"

There was a pause before Fillmore looked her in the eye and his expression—and his voice—softened as he replied, "Maybe?"

Ingrid smiled. "So, does that mean I don't have to remind you never to invite me to family reunions?"

"I guess not," Fillmore laughed, glancing at the house. "Think your dad and Ariella are staring out the window?"

"Ariella's probably busy with a painting, and Dad's most likely getting another lecture ready."

"So in other words, no?" Fillmore grinned.

"I guess not," Ingrid agreed, looking at him curiously. "Why? What are you thinking, Cornelius?"

"Nothing. I just figured if they saw me walking you home they might start teasing you."

"Fillmore, they know you. They like you. And they trust you. And actually, I think they'd both probably prefer you walking me home to my walking home alone."

"Then I should probably finish walking you home, huh?"

"You came this far. You can go if you want. Besides, isn't your family probably worried about you?" Ingrid asked curiously, eyes narrowed.

"Judging by how quickly they shoved us out of the house, I'd say they figured I'd be gone a while," Fillmore grinned.

Ingrid blinked, then smiled. "Well, if that's the case, they probably expect you to walk me to the door."

"Right."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" the girl genius asked, heading for her front door, glancing over her shoulder to ask, "You coming?"

He sprinted the two steps to catch up, reminding her, "Hey, I'm supposed to be walking _you_, not the other way around."

They'd reached the steps by now, and walked up to the door together, Ingrid turning around to look at him, placing her hand on the doorknob as she said, "Thanks for inviting me tonight, Fillmore. It was fun."

"If you call being made fun of fun…"

"Fillmore," Ingrid almost laughed, and he looked at her curiously before her face turned pink and she quickly pressed her lips to his. _Very_ quickly. So quickly that he thought for a moment he was dreaming, but Ingrid's face told him otherwise. As pink turned to cherry red, Ingrid opened the door and stepped inside, stammering, "I…I'll see you tomorrow at HQ, Fillmore. Late."

As his friend and partner closed her front door, Fillmore smiled, uttering a single word as he headed for home.

"Peace."

* * *

Almost 2500 words. Is it just me, or is there a pattern to my writing? O.o 

Comments and input on other fics (S: NTY, etc…) and such are appreciated.


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